ORA NGE-BL OS SOM. 
171 
THE ORANGE-TREE. 
SPENSER. 
Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree, 
With branches broad dispread and body great, 
Clothed with leaves, that none the wood might see, 
And laden all with fruit, as thick as thick might be. 
The fruit were golden apples glistering bright, 
That goodly was their glory to behold ; 
On earth no better grew, nor living wight 
E’er better saw, but they from hence* were sold, 
For those which Hercules, with conquest bold, 
Got from great Atlas’ daughters, hence began, 
And planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold, 
And those with which th’Eubcean young man wan [won] 
Swift Atalanta, when, through craft, he her outran. 
Here also sprang that goodly golden fruit 
With which Acontius got his lover true, 
Whom he had long time sought with fruitless suit; 
Here eke that famous golden apple grew, 
The which among the gods false Ate threw, 
For which the Idasan ladies disagreed, 
Till partial Paris deemed it Venus’ due, 
And had [of her] fair Helen for his meed, 
That many noble Greeks and Trojans made to bleed. 
* The garden of Proserpina. 
